Chapter 45: Don’t Hurt What’s Mine

Chapter 45: Don’t Hurt What’s MineAriana’s body shivered, and what made it worse was that this was the first time he had ever acted this way toward her. She had never seen this side of him before. As she tried to stand, her limbs moved stiffly, her mind reeling—she had been wrong to think she knew him. She didn’t. Not even close. If anything, this was merely the tip of the iceberg, and he had just given her a terrifying glimpse beneath the surface. The moment she rose to leave, Zavren’s hand clamped around her waist, forcing her back down with calculated ease. His expression had darkened now, a shadow of menace in his eyes. "That," he said slowly, his voice low and unforgiving, "was just a little advice—from me to you." L... Little advice. Ariana’s breath came out in a trembling gasp, fear clawing its way up her throat. Advice? He called that little? Oh, God. Zavren’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk as he watched the stiffness in her posture—the way she froze like a statue, reconsidering every life choice. "If you’re still entertaining the idea of running," he said, voice laced with mockery, "I know you’re not that dumb." Her eyes widened in shock—he had just called her dumb, but in the most twisted, backhanded way. Her gaze snapped to him, now filled with fury and hatred. "Don’t overthink it," he murmured. "We were in the middle of something..." He paused as he realized the way her chest began to move up and down. Her face paled, her eyes shaking. Zavren held her to him gently. "Breathe in, sweetheart," he said softly, though his eyes still lacked warmth. He noticed how hard she was breathing, her chest rising rapidly now. Ariana’s heart began to race, panic threatening to consume her—until she felt him pull her close. His warmth wrapped around her like a heavy, comforting blanket. "Take a few deep breaths, Aria... slowly, in and out," he murmured calmly. She followed his instructions, and to her surprise, the storm within her began to settle. Her breathing evened out. Turning to him, her eyes widened in disbelief—at how calm he was, how different he looked now. The earlier coldness in his gaze had faded into calmness. No one would believe this man was the same one who had just frightened her. But she knew. That was him. Both versions were him. Pressing her lips together, she opened her notebook once more and scribbled a few words before holding it up: Nothing happened over the past few days, Your Majesty. Zavren read it, and his eyes darkened slightly. The way her lips trembled told him everything—she was truly mad at him. And who wouldn’t be? He gently cupped her face with both hands and bumped his forehead against hers. Before she could react, he pulled her into his arms and held her close. He felt her tense body begin to relax. He hadn’t meant to scare her. He had only wanted her to see the other side of him. It wasn’t even all of him—just a part. But she couldn’t handle it. That was his mistake. He wouldn’t show her that part of himself again. Not now. Ariana raised her pen slowly and began to write. She turned the notebook around for him to see: You are scary. Zavren nodded, not the least bit surprised, yet his lips curled up slowly at least she had been brave enough to make him aware. "Yes, I am, darling," he said evenly. "But I don’t hurt what belongs to me." There was no jest in his voice—just quiet conviction. He meant every word. To his surprise, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around him once more, burying her face in his chest. Her body trembled slightly, but she held him tightly. Ariana didn’t know it, but his embrace—warm and solid—was far more soothing than the cold, commanding look in his eyes. His scent calmed her, and without realizing it, she found peace there. Zavren’s hand lifted gently, stroking her hair back with careful fingers. A subtle smile tugged at his lips—so faint no one would ever notice. His fingers trailed softly through her strands, his gaze settling on the small woman clinging to him—the same woman he had frightened just moments ago. His lips twitched again in quiet disbelief. She slowly pulled away, reached for her notebook, and wrote: Do you have a mistress? "No," he replied calmly. "Is this because of the woman I was with earlier?" Ariana nodded, her gaze dropping to the floor. Zavren reached out and gently tilted her chin, guiding her eyes back to his. "She is not my mistress," he said firmly. "You are my wife. If you have questions, ask them freely—you have every right to." Ariana hesitated, her pen trembling slightly as she wrote again: Then why is she here? Are you planning to marry another? Zavren stilled. "Oh, my wife," he breathed, "who told you I was planning to marry again? I’m already married. And I don’t believe in having more than one." Ariana slowly raised her gaze to meet his. Did that mean... she was going to be his only wife? Her heart fluttered in surprise—and something dangerously close to joy. So he wouldn’t take another? She would be the only one? "Is that all, my wife?" Zavren asked gently. He noticed the way she hesitated—the pause of her pen, the flicker of doubt in her eyes. "Remember, you can ask me anything, sweetheart. And if I can answer, I will." She nodded silently. "The Seer will be visiting soon," he continued. "I want to know if there’s a cure for your voice—since you weren’t born like this." And... for your powers. Ariana’s gaze flickered sharply to him. How did he know? "Your father told me," Zavren said simply, reading her expression. "If that’s what you’re wondering." Ariana pressed her lips together. Of course. Her father never failed to surprise her—though not always in good ways. "You don’t have to worry," Zavren added. "She’ll only check for a cure. She’s a pre-Seer—she doesn’t see the future, only the past." Ariana nodded. She would be lying if she said she didn’t want her voice back. But at the same time... she wouldn’t be devastated if it never returned. Sign language had become a part of her. It was comforting in its own way. "Do you feel anything strange about yourself? Like... something completely unexplainable?" Zavren asked, his gaze carefully studying her expression. He wanted to know—was she aware of the power that pulsed quietly within her? From what he could tell... she wasn’t. Ariana hesitated. She wanted to say no, to shake her head and move on—but her thoughts betrayed her. That moment in the library... it hadn’t felt normal. Something had happened, something she couldn’t explain. And then there was the voice—calling her name inside her head. That couldn’t have been her imagination. Was it? Her eyes flickered, and then she slowly shook her head. Zavren nodded, unsurprised. Just as he thought—she had no idea. No idea of the power sleeping inside her. Ariana pressed her lips together, gripping her pen tightly as she wrote: What about your twins? Are you saying you won’t take responsibility—as a father and a king? Zavren’s expression darkened the more he read. "Who says I have twins?" he asked quietly, his voice low and controlled—but his grey eyes had turned dangerously grave, smoky with quiet fury. Ariana didn’t back down. She continued writing, her strokes firm with determination: With Lady Sofia. Isn’t that why she’s allowed to stay in the palace? Just like I am—until I give birth? The moment his eyes landed on the words give birth, his hand shot out and tilted her face up to his. "Who told you I’m letting you stay here because of the child?" he asked sharply, his tone no longer calm. The topic of supposed twins with another woman had already been irritating—but this? This, he wasn’t going to let slide. Ariana shivered at the intense look in his eyes. She scribbled again: I just thought... since she was brought here while carrying your children, it must be the same reason I was allowed to stay... She stopped writing when she noticed Zavren sigh and run a hand through his hair, pushing it back in frustration. His expression held disbelief—then it shifted to something colder, heavier. His voice dropped again, far too calm. "All I want from you while I summon all... is to point at the person who told you I have twins with Sofia." Ariana froze. She didn’t want anyone to be hurt because of her question. The weight in his tone alone promised death as a reward to whoever had dared spread such a rumor. "It’s just a rumor," she wrote quickly. Zavren’s eyes narrowed. He reached for her, pulling her closer from where she sat on his lap. His hands gripped her waist as their bodies pressed close, so close their faces hovered inches apart—one shift, and their lips would touch. His warm, mint-laced breath brushed her mouth, and her body jolted. A flutter erupted in her stomach as her breathing grew shallow. "Exactly. Baseless rumors," he said lowly, voice like velvet laced with steel. She could tell—he wasn’t going to let this go easily. Then his lips lowered, brushing the curve of her jaw. His hot tongue moved in slow, circular motions across her skin, sending chills through her body. Her chest rose and fell in slow, shaky breaths, lips parting unconsciously. Zavren pulled back, eyes dark and stormy, locking her in place. "I didn’t keep you here because of the child," he said firmly. Then, after a pause that made her heart freeze— "I never had sex with Sofia."